Chance Encounters
by basil and dill
Summary: Simon just wants to get home for Penelope's Christmas dinner but of course the weather is horrible and his flight is grounded. Simon's resigned himself to the next few hours of shifting around in airport chairs and thumbing through his book, that is until a handsome stranger sits down next to him, one who is too distracting for his own good. Alternate Universe.
1. Chapter 1

**It's a little late for a Christmas fic, I know, but just bear with me. Snowflakes and Christmas trees everyone. :)**

* * *

Simon watched his flight number on the airport terminal smorgasbord of flights. His flight number was blinking on the screen. He wasn't exactly sure what that meant but he wagered his last mint Aero bar that it wasn't good.

He sighed and sank back into his seat – his rather painfully, uncomfortable seat. Penelope was going to jinx his food to taste like nylon socks if he was late for Christmas dinner again. It wasn't like she could blame the freezing rain on him. Then again, most things could be turned inside out to be his fault and he found Penelope had a knack for turning things inside out.

" _It's with utmost love,"_ Penelope would say on those occasions. _"You'd have to be a very important person in my life for everything to be your fault."_

Simon wasn't quite sure he followed that line of logic.

Simon leaned down and dug around in his carry-on bag until his fingers found the hard contours of the book he'd packed for the flight. He pulled it out and, with one more sigh at his blinking flight number, he cracked the spine – the best sound in the world in his opinion – and settled in.

He was snickering to himself at something one of the characters said when brisk footsteps entered his awareness. With a huff the person sat down next to Simon in the crowded terminal and pushed his carry-on luggage next to his chair with his foot.

Simon glanced over and _Crowley_ he wish he hadn't.

The stranger's slender fingers – _artist's hands –_ pushed his black hair away from his eyes as he scanned the departure board looking for his flight. His eyes held an intensity that robbed Simon of his next thought. It was as if the stranger was watching the world burn away instead of looking at the flight board in an airport. The man's features were combined together in a way that made Simon think of white marble – cold and perfect. Simon was positive his fingertips would burn if he were to reach out and touch the man. Something in his gut pulled.

The corners of the stranger's lips pulled upwards and his eyes slanted to look at Simon. Simon whipped his head back to his book just as the stranger turned to look at him. He busied himself with his book but who was he kidding. His eyes went through the back-and-forth motion of reading but it may as well have been written in Swahili. He could feel the burn of the stranger's scanning eyes. Just when Simon was about to start twitching from being so unabashedly analyzed, the stranger settled back into his seat and combed both hands through his hair and pulled one ankle up to rest on his knee.

By this point all the characters in the book could have died and been resurrected while holding hands and chanting _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_ buck naked around a campfire and Simon wouldn't have blinked twice.

There was an undeniably handsome man sitting next to him.

His flight didn't look like it was going to be coming any time soon.

Penelope was going to turn him into a human stocking stuffer.

And Simon was being completely daft because he had to retrain his lungs how to breathe again and his mind how to think again and all because of the man sitting next to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Simon's attention was diverted when a woman with her oversized suitcase passed in front of them. Simon leaned down to pull his own suitcase closer to him to give the woman more space. The woman repaid him by running his foot over with her suitcase. Simon pressed his lips together to trap whatever word wanted to fight its way out.

The woman turned around and shot him a dirty look and kept barreling on. The man beside him snorted and Simon was very tempted to take the woman's suitcase and roll it over the man's foot to see how much _he_ liked it. Karma was going to come back and bite the woman when she'll have to pay an arm and a foot – _haha_ – to get the fifty pound suitcase through check-in.

The man's phone went off and it was Simon's turn to snort when he realized the ringtone was NSYNC's _Bye, Bye, Bye._ The man leaned away from Simon and pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket. He smiled when he saw the number and swiped his finger to answer the call.

"Hi sweetheart." The stranger's voice sounded like melted steel. Simon sat there, wondering why he was listening-in on this man's conversation and conjuring similes in his head that would make his high school English teacher cluck her tongue. Simon chalked all this insanity up to the post-exam-pre-holiday limbo.

"Well of course I knew it was you. It was either you, Elizabeth, Dawn or Pemberly and you call me more often than the others.

 _Sweet Crowley, how many girlfriends does he have? And they all know about each other? How has he not been killed four times over?_

Simon really didn't understand people sometimes. He shifted in his seat and forced himself to focus back to his book and forced himself to stomp on the undeniable surge of frustration that swelled within him. Maybe he could get the woman back here to run it down with the suitcase – flatten it until it no longer existed.

"Well of course you're my favorite, but you can't tell the others."

Simon rolled his eyes. _I bet he says that to all of them._

"Of course I packed it, it saddens me to think that you would doubt me." The man's voice held a lightness that clashed against his too-cool-for-school look. The widow's peak made him look like he could be the head of some secret organization for villains. Simon could just imagine that: a long wooden table where the likes of Moriarty, the Joker and Voldemort sat sipping tea from oversized mugs with pictures of cats on them, with this man sitting at the head of the table – fingers steepled in deep concentration over whether to mix honey or lemon in with his tea.

Simon snorted. _Maybe Penelope's right: I do watch too much tv._


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm just waiting at the airport now. It's pretty late, I thought you'd be asleep by now."

The man pinched his phone between his shoulder and his cheek as he bent down to tuck his passport and papers back into the pocket of his bag. Simon followed his movement over the top of his book while he prayed that no one was watching his stealth operation. The last thing he needed was to be singled out by security because he was acting dodgy. If he was wise he would have ignored the stranger and his overabundance of relationships.

Sadly, Simon had learned a long time ago that he wasn't wise.

Maybe it was the fact that it was Christmas and everywhere he looked there were families coming together, laughing and annoying each other in the best possible way, while he passed them by with a longing in his chest. Maybe it was all the couples holding hands, all the cutesy tv commercials or the massive amounts of mistletoe hung around the city. Maybe it was just that he'd watched Love Actually the night before and some of the melancholy had buried itself a little too deep for him to shake off.

He wasn't a complete goob. He knew that people didn't declare their love on oversized cue cards that probably needed to be special ordered. He knew that a ten year old boy with brilliant bright red hair would get caught five seconds after dashing past airport security. Logically he knew that it was only in the movies, but it was still a thought that managed to wander through his mind whenever he was too tired to sweep it away.

"Sleep well then, darling. I'll see you all in the morning." The man laughed. "Yes, I promise that I have your present but you'll only get it if you give me a kiss. Same goes for the others."

 _Jesus, he must spend all his money on buying gifts for all his girlfriends._

The man gave a low chuckle. "Okay then, I'll see you soon. Okay. Goodnight."

Simon wanted to give himself a shake but, well, it wasn't like _that_ would look weird. What had gotten into him? Of all the people to sit beside him it had to be _this guy._ And besides that, this never happened to him. Simon didn't fixate on people because they were a little, ahhhm _a lot_ , good looking. He just wasn't that type. So then, what was so special about this black-haired stranger who obviously had more girlfriends than he knew what to do with, who obviously didn't even swing for the same team and couldn't even be bothered to let Simon have his own armrest. It was attached to his seat for God's sake.

"You know, I heard it's rude to eavesdrop on other people's conversations."

Simon was startled at being addressed. He looked up from his book and straight into the face of the bemused stranger. Simon forced himself to look away from the man's face and straight back into the open book in his lap. He chanted _four girlfriends, four girlfriends, four girlfriends_ until he knew he wasn't going to stumble over his tongue when he opened his mouth.

"Funny, I think those were the same people who said _thou must not hog other people's armrests."_

The man sniggered.

"Plus, I wasn't eavesdropping," Simon added, somewhat lamely.

"You're quite possibly the worst liar I've yet to come across. You can't even look me in the eyes."

Simon wasn't going to go for the bait. He told himself he wasn't going to. He definitely did not tell his head to lift but somehow he found himself looking into the man's face again.

The chanting wasn't helping this time either.


	4. Chapter 4

It was the stranger who looked away first this time. He glanced up at the flight numbers and after a moment he let out a sight, settling deeper into his seat.

"Is your fight delayed too?"

Simon nodded.

"Well, I think we're in for a bit of a wait. I heard on the radio as I was coming in that we're supposed to get freezing rain for another couple hours."

 _Just perfect. Figures he wants to talk right when it feels like I've swallowed the entire desert and then some._

Simon swallowed a couple of times, trying to force something witty to come out. His mind scrambled for something pithy to say; something smart and effortless.

"My radio is green."

 _My radio is green? MY RADIO IS GREEN?! I'm an English major and the best damned thing I can come up with is "My radio is green?"_

Simon closed his eyes and wondered if there was enough space in his suitcase for him to climb in and zip it up. Or maybe the women with the half-ton suitcase can come back and finish him off this time.

He saw the man's eyebrows rise as he bit the barest fraction of his bottom lip.

"Good on you, mate." The man cheek quirked and Simon just _knew_ that the man was simply dying to have a good laugh.

Simon cleared his throat. "What I meant to say was that _my radio_ said the rain was supposed to be over by now."

The stranger grinned at him. "Mmm, yes. Did your radio also tell you that the rain was going to be green?"

"Shut up," Simon laughed. He felt something akin to butterflies bump flutter around the confines of his stomach. His stomach grumbled loudly.

Then again, maybe he was just hungry.

He wished he would have packed the sandwich that was sitting at home, all alone, in his fridge. His fingers toyed with the corner of his book as he lamented in the fact that even water was going to be a couple dozen pounds at the airport.

The stranger leant down and pulled out his passport and he dug around in his carry-on. He pulled out a bag of crisps and an apple before stuck his passport back. Simon was fairly certain he was seconds away from drooling all over himself. He could almost taste the salt on his tongue, the way the crisp would crunch between his teeth and the taste would coat the inside of his mouth.

The man opened the bag and laid the apple in his lap. He slowly crossed his legs, turning himself to face Simon better and stuck out the opened bag. "Well? Go ahead," he said when Simon didn't move. "I'm pretty sure those people over there on the other tarmac heard that monster in your stomach."

Simon flushed but he reached over into the bag and took a crisp.

"Now it's time for you to pay up," the man said when Simon was done chewing.

 _Pay up?_

The man smiled and Simon swallowed again, despite the fact that he had long since swallowed any remnants of the chip.

"I'm not in the habit of sharing my crisps with people when I don't know their names."

 _Oh._

"I'm Simon. Erm and your name is?"

The stranger reached into his bag and dug out a crisp. "I'm Baz."

 _Baz. I haven't heard that one before._

"It's short for Basilton." His eyebrows quirked. "Obviously you can see why I prefer Baz."

Simon huffed a laugh and Baz smiled.

"So, Simon, where are you heading?"

"Just over to Surrey to have Christmas dinner with a friend of mine."

"Surrey," Baz said as he held the bag out to Simon. "That's a ways to go for a dinner. She must be pretty important."

"She's my best friend," Simon said between chews. "What about you, where are you traveling to?" Simon wished he could hit himself over the head with apple in Baz's lap because he knew very well that Baz was on his way to one of his girlfriend's house. One of his _many_ girlfriends, heavy emphasis on the word _girl._

"It's off to Christmas dinner for me as well. Everyone's meeting at my sister's so it's bound to get a little crazy. My family's the posh types that doesn't use words to argue but rather shoots laser beams out of their eyes across the dinner table." Baz laughed. "I swear, sometimes the crossfire is the only thing that cooks the duck completely."

Simon laughed along but a tiny corner of his heart ached – the same corner he tries to board up around this time every year.

"I bet your parents are the type that can't wait to get you back from university and smother you with food until you have to punch new holes into your belt," Baz continues.

The little part in Simon's heart throbbed a little harder.

"Actually, my parents passed away when I was young."

There was a silence that probably felt longer to Simon than in actually was. He wasn't exactly sure why he told a random stranger about his situation but now he felt embarrassed at disclosing so much about himself. He was about to say something to change the subject when Baz spoke up.

"I'm sorry, mate. I lost my mum when I was young as well."

Simon looked at Baz but Baz picked up the apple and was fiddling with it.

"Well this just got a little depressing," Simon stated, trying to regain his footing after being knocked sideways.

Baz gave the apple a small smile. "I guess the holidays will do that to you."

Simon looked at Baz and he knew that he somehow understood. That he wasn't the only one who swallowed hard when he saw a Christmas catalogue with the mum and dad and kids sitting around the table, laughing. That he wasn't the only one who starred a little too long at the family sitting in front of him. That he wasn't the only one who had to look away when he saw his neighbour wrap her young son a huge hug when he learned to ride his bike with trainers.

"So," Simon said, trying to rerail the conversation, "did you actually remember all your presents or are you going to be disappointing some hearts?"

Baz closed his eyes and laughed. "I knew you were listening in on my conversation." He turned to shoot Simon a look.

Simon shrugged, smiling. "It's not as if I could _not_ hear you. With you draped all over my armrest, your conversation was practically spilling over to me."

Baz chortled. "The armrest again. So that's what's got your knickers in a knot. I took your armrest so you felt it was your duty to eavesdrop. Is that some unspoken rule from where you come from?"

Simon rolled his eyes. "We're both English, and we're in the same airport. We come from the same place, you dolt."

"Obviously I come from a more refined part of England."

Simon snorted. "Sure, pardon me, your lordship. I am but a meager villager and I must pale next to you with your pressed pants and four girlfriends."

Baz's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline.

"My four _what?"_

Simon shifted in his seat. "You know, your girlfriends," Simon said somewhat awkwardly. "The ones you're bringing presents for."

Baz frowned for a moment before he smiled widely, his eyes dancing. "Oh, you mean Andrea, Elizabeth, Dawn and Pemberly?"

"Sure," Simon said. He was starting to waver under Baz's gaze.

Baz laughed. "They're my nieces, Simon. I'm going to my sister's to have Christmas dinner with her, her husband and their kids."

Simon wanted to melt into the crack in the carpet and disappear from view.

"Four girlfriends though," Baz continued, "that sounds like awful lot of work. That would require a timetable to keep everything running smoothly. Then the one time that one of them leaves a shirt over at your place the whole gig is up. No, I don't think I'd do that even if I was the type to date girls. I'm too lazy to work all that out."

 _...even if I was the type to date girls._

 _Okay lungs, don't fail me now. Sure, there's a devastatingly attractive man sitting next to you and beat the one in ten odds and is actually gay. Sure he's sarcastic enough to burn a hole in the carpet and he smells like something spicy and good and maybe I can just lean over and take a closer whiff but no. Stop. Focus, Simon. Time to say something before he thinks you're some weirdo who's caught up in him declaring that he's gay. Oh but you are, and for all the right reasons too._

Simon felt the flush start spreading up his neck from the pressure of trying to come up with something to say while Baz looked on.

He stood up and placed his book on his seat. "I need to use the washroom. Would you mind?" Simon asked, looking pointedly at his luggage.

"Yeah, sure. No problem, I'll watch your stuff," Baz said, albeit a little confused.

Simon dashed over to the washroom down the corridor and waited in line for a stall.

 _What he must think with me jumping up and almost running away. Jesus, I pretty much ran away._ Simon wanted to knock his head against the tiled wall in the hopes that maybe some dormant part of his brain would sputter to life and he'd act like a normal human being.

He walked over to the stall after a man walked out and he turned and slipped the lock into place. And that's when the thought hit him.

 _I just left my stuff with a stranger._

Simon finished up fast and popped out to wash his hands. He was just wiping his hands when the voice over the intercom announced a list of gates that were now open and beginning to board.

He walked quickly over to his seat and was relieved when he saw Baz and his luggage still there. Baz was standing, the handle of his carry-on in hand, scanning the people walking past. He lifted his hand when he saw Simon.

"Hey, they just opened my gate," Simon said, grabbing his book and exchanging it in his bag for his passport and boarding pass.

"Mine too," Baz said.

Simon grabbed the handle of his luggage. "Oh good, let's go then."

Simon started towards his gate only to find that Baz wasn't beside him. He stopped and looked back to see that Baz was right where he'd left him.

Simon quirked his head. "Aren't you coming?"

"We're not on the same flight."

 _Oh._

Simon towed his stuff back slowly. "I figured we were on the same flight." He smiled weakly.

"I knew we weren't when you said that you were on your way to Surrey."

Simon shuffled. "Well, it's been nice chatting with you Baz."

Baz smiled. "Same goes double for me."

Simon was at a loss of what to say, his English major poking through again. "Merry Christmas then."

"Merry Christmas, Simon. Hopefully your New Year will have some happy surprises." Baz smiled once more before turning and pulling his carry-on after him.

Simon walked over to his own gate, laughing lightly at all the thoughts of running through the airport until he found Baz that kept running through his mind.

"Passport, sir"

Simon handed his passport into the attendant's waiting hands.

* * *

The plane had just taken off when Simon pulled out his book. He opened his book to his bookmark and was surprised when a piece of folded white paper fluttered into his lap.

He unfolded the paper.

 _Simon,_

 _I don't know how long you'll be in the loo so I'll make this quick. I never thought I'd be so happy to have my flight delayed. Forgive me if I misread this, but I think that you are someone I'd want to know better. Someone I'd like to see every day. God, I can't believe I'm doing this, I never do this. You must believe me, I don't come to airports and deliberately sit beside adorable guys with laugh-softened eyes. You must think I'm a twat. Forgive me._

 _Baz_

 _P.S. Beepitch (Just in case you don't think I'm a twat...)_

* * *

 **A bit of a late Christmas present. Thanks to all of you for reading! Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and Happy Holiday. :)**


End file.
